Scotland Waits
by Denise Felt
Summary: Cmdr. Straker finds love during his vacation to the Scottish coast --- or does he?


Scotland Waits (A UFO Story) by Denise Felt Copyright 2001  
  
CHAPTER 1  
  
He sprinted down the alley between the two film sets, angrier than he could remember being in a long time. His wicked looking gun was almost an extension of his arm as he stealthily followed Carlyle's trail. It wasn't even the fact that one of his own men had turned traitor that infuriated the commander so much. Nor was it the fact that Carlyle had taken cover on the studio grounds after sabotaging the equipment at HQ. No. It was the fact that the bastard had shot Alec that had Straker hot on his tail, in violation of every security protocol SHADO had. The commander was not supposed to put himself in the line of fire. To hell with that, he thought savagely. He eased around the corner of the mockfront of 221 Baker St. and flattened against the brick. Carlyle was at the end of the block, searching frantically for an outlet. Straker grinned fiercely and stepped into the cobbled street, his gun pointed unerringly at the lieutenant. "Drop it!" he ordered.  
  
Carlyle spun around, his gun firing wildly in panic. The bullet dug into the brick building several feet away from where the commander stood. The lieutenant blanched as he met Straker's icy blue gaze, suddenly aware of not only the hopelessness of his situation, but of the foolishness of crossing such a man. With nothing left to lose, Carlyle fired his gun's final two rounds at his commanding officer.  
  
Straker dove for the bushes on the opposite side of the street, his gun firing in reflex. He saw Carlyle fall even as he felt the searing pain of a bullet hit him in the thigh. The force of its impact swung him past his intended landing spot behind the thick bushes and straight into the electric fence.  
  
* * *  
  
He stood on the cliff with his overcoat open, enjoying the damp evening chill. The fog was so thick that he could hardly see the ocean. But he could hear its fierce pounding against the rocks below bring a hollow echo through the muting fog. It was a lonely sound, one that suited his mood completely.  
  
He was glad to be in Scotland. The land's stark contradictions pleased his aesthetic senses in a way that England's tamer landscape never could. Here, the deep green of the hillsides gave way to the jagged black cliffs. And the sweet smell of heather teased the nostrils along with the tangy salt sea air. He drew a deep breath of the cold night, wondering idly why he had waited so long to come here. It was as if the coast of Scotland had been patiently awaiting his arrival all his life.  
  
His rather hard eyes softened slightly at that thought, but sharpened once more moments later when he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone trying to reach shore. Galvanized into action by the concern for someone in trouble, he headed down the rocky cliffside to the tiny beach below. The fog made it rough, since he could barely see where he was going, and he banged his shins more than once on the rocks before he found himself on the sand. The fog was not as thick here, and he strained his eyes for any movement. For a moment, he thought he was too late when he heard nothing but the sound of the surf. Then he sighed as a figure emerged from the water. "Are you all right?" he called.  
  
The shadowy shape turned toward him and came out of the surrounding fog in tantalizing glimpses. First he saw a pale delicate face whose wide dark eyes met his own with an intriguing mixture of intelligence and curiosity. Then her bare shoulders and arms were seen. Then her long bare legs. He wasn't even aware that he'd been holding his breath until he let it out in a sigh as she approached. She was wearing a trim bathing suit that glinted wetly against her skin. "I'm fine," she said quietly, her husky voice playing over his nerve endings.  
  
He frowned and moved closer. If she was fine, what was she doing swimming in the ocean on a night like this? He reached out and touched her cheek, unsure whether to believe that she was truly there or if she was merely a figment of an overworked mind. "Are you real?" he asked softly, unable to help remembering the stories he had recently heard about kelpies, selkies, and the like.  
  
Her smile was reassuring. "Yes, I'm real," she answered, then added ruefully, "Although my sister would say I was out of my mind."  
  
"Your sister?"  
  
She nodded toward the house he could barely see at the top of the cliff through the fog. "Fiona doesn't like swimming in the cold."  
  
He fell into step with her as she started up the rocks. She moved deftly, as if she knew the cliff face well, and he was careful to follow her steps. As they reached the top, she turned and looked out over the ocean. The wind had picked up, and it blew her long damp hair about her face even while it dispersed some of the fog. Without comment, he removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders.  
  
She smiled her thanks, and they stood in silence for a time. She seemed almost a part of the night around him, and he kept finding his gaze returning to her face in spite of the ocean so close by that had fascinated him earlier. Her quiet eyes held an intensity that was almost otherworldly as she watched the waves roll toward the foggy shore. He restrained the compulsion to touch her again, just to make sure that she was, in fact, really there beside him. After a while, she turned to him and said softly, "I love the sea. No matter where I go, I feel like I'm home if I can just hear the surf or smell the brine. It's why I always come back."  
  
His eyes searched that lovely face. "You grew up here?"  
  
"Yes. My sister and I. We were raised on a farm back on the moors. But whenever I'd run off as a child, my father always knew where to find me. Here, on the cliffs."  
  
His lean features softened slightly as he visualised her younger self playing among the rocks. "Did your parents worry about you here, so close to the water?"  
  
"No." She turned to him with a chuckle, her eyes lighting with laughter. "Da said I was half- kelpie."  
  
He blinked, reminded of his earlier thoughts. He wasn't a man who believed in such things, but he had to admit that there was something about this countryside that made anything seem possible. Even water sprites. "What's your name?" he asked in a desire to establish a bit more reality to the moment.  
  
"Desiree. Desiree Leigh."  
  
It sounded too magical to be real, and he sighed. So much for reality. "Are you an actress?"  
  
She grinned. "No. I'm a writer. You mean you haven't heard of me?"  
  
He shrugged. "I don't have much time for reading. What kind of books do you write?"  
  
Desiree laughed. "Probably nothing you would be interested in."  
  
"Try me."  
  
She met his eyes, hers twinkling with laughter, and he could almost make out their color in the dark. "I write space bitch stories."  
  
His brow lifted. "Excuse me?"  
  
She gave another throaty laugh. "You see? You've never heard of them."  
  
"You're right," he agreed with a small smile. But he was curious. "What are they?"  
  
"Science fiction."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. My heroine is a renegade smuggler who always finds herself in hot water wherever she goes, and ends up saving the galaxy by the final chapter."  
  
"I see." Space bitch stories. It made sense now. "It's a series then?"  
  
"Yes." She turned and headed for the house. "Andy's been much too fun to leave behind. I don't know if I'll ever tire of her."  
  
"Andy?" he asked, walking with her.  
  
"Andromeda."  
  
"Of course."  
  
She grinned at his serious tone. "Da always told me to live life to the fullest. And I've always tried to. But I've found that the wilder parts of life that I can't encompass, Andy does for me. But, you now." She gave him a glance from under her lashes. "I'll bet your work is firmly grounded in reality."  
  
He thought of SHADO and all that it stood for and almost smiled. "Not exactly."  
  
"Come on," she teased, gazing intently into his hard face. "I'll bet you're a scientist. Or a financier. Something severely disciplined like that."  
  
"No," he answered, stopping at the door and meeting her laughing eyes. "I'm a film producer."  
  
She blinked in shock. "No way."  
  
He raised a brow, enjoying her disbelief. "I can prove it." He reached a hand inside his jacket and frowned. His card case wasn't where it was supposed to be. Had he lost it on the cliff?  
  
She put her hands on her hips. "Well?"  
  
He smiled a little sheepishly. "I seem to have mislaid my business cards."  
  
"A likely story."  
  
"Seriously." When she only shook her head at him, he said, "Maybe they're in my coat."  
  
She obediently felt in the pockets for them. "No. They're empty."  
  
"I don't understand it."  
  
She crossed her arms, eying him closely. "You're serious, aren't you? You're actually some kind of movie guy?"  
  
"Yes. Perhaps my name will ring a bell. It's Straker. Edward Straker."  
  
She thought for a minute, then said, "No. It doesn't sound familiar. But then, I don't go to movies much."  
  
He ran a frustrated hand through his white blonde hair. He'd never encountered this kind of difficulty before. Usually it was the opposite problem of being too well known. "Well, it's the truth."  
  
Desiree suddenly grinned, making him wonder if she'd been stringing him along. "It's okay, Ed. I believe you." She gave him back his coat, saying apologetically, "I'm afraid it's wet now."  
  
"That's all right," he said, folding it over his arm.  
  
She looked at him in the light from the hall as she stood in the doorway. "You're beautiful enough to be in the movies," she said unexpectedly.  
  
By the time he had figured out how to respond to that comment, she had gone inside and closed the door.  
  
* * *  
  
White. That was the first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes. The second was pain. Pain everywhere. Excruciating pain. White pain. He frowned. iWhite pain?/i Did that make sense?  
  
"Ed?"  
  
He turned his head carefully on the pillow and saw his friend sitting next to the bed. Bed? Oh, he was in the hospital then. "Alec?"  
  
Col. Freeman shooed the nurse out of the room. "Go get Dr. Jackson," he told her.  
  
"Yes, sir." She left in a blur of white.  
  
White. Straker frowned, looking around the room. White ceiling. White walls. White floor. Blue drapes. Blue? He focused on them intently for a long moment, then was finally satisfied that they were indeed blue. When his gaze returned to Alec's, his friend was grinning.  
  
"A little out of it, aren't you?"  
  
Something was wrong with the way Alec looked, and it took Straker a minute to realize what it was. "You're wearing a cast," he said worriedly.  
  
The colonel grimaced. "Damned bullet broke the bone," he groused. He flexed his fingers, the only part of his forearm that was visible past the cast. "Can't even write my name!"  
  
"Alec." The commander paused to lick his dry lips. "What happened?"  
  
From the corner of his eye, Freeman saw Dr. Jackson silently enter the room. He ignored him as he met his friend's worried blue eyes. "Carlyle tried to kill you, Ed. Don't you remember?"  
  
Straker's eyes widened as the memories flooded back. He moved a little on the bed and instantly regretted it as pain shot throughout his body. His breath hissed out as he realized that the pain originated from his upper thigh. He looked up through a haze of agony to see Jackson calmly pressing a button on the IV attached to Straker's arm. The pain immediately lessened. Morphine. "No," the commander murmured in protest, not wanting to lose coherent thought. He had too many questions that needed answered.  
  
"It's all right, Commander," soothed the doctor. "Everything is fine."  
  
"Alec!"  
  
Col. Freeman laid his good hand on Straker's arm. As much as he despised the doctor's highhandedness, he too had seen the pain his friend was in. "It's okay, Ed. Keith and Ginny got the equipment back up and running. Paul's getting a taste of the command chair. And I'm out of here this afternoon. As soon as you're back on your feet, it'll be as if none of this ever happened."  
  
"Carlyle?"  
  
Alec's features hardened. "Dead. As he deserved for turning traitor like that. Damn it, Ed! It's one thing to be reprogrammed and to serve those damn aliens without any will of your own. But it's another to voluntarily go over to their side!"  
  
Straker thought of the endless frustration of fighting a war against a technologically superior race and knew that for some, the struggle for supremacy in the fight for Earth just got to be too much. "Power thing," he explained in a slurred voice.  
  
"Yeah. Maybe," Alec conceded in disgust. "But I still don't get it."  
  
"Good."  
  
Freeman met those deep blue eyes and sighed. They'd had this conversation before. Fifteen years of fighting a war they couldn't win had deepened their friendship to the point where words were hardly necessary between them. They understood each other well enough.  
  
Straker's gaze had wandered. He was frowning at the ceiling. Alec hid a grin. Ed on morphine was always an education. "What's wrong, Ed?"  
  
The commander's blue eyes looked his way. "White," he said distinctly. And distastefully.  
  
Alec's grin slipped out, and he glanced at the doctor to find him fighting a smile. "Yes, Ed. The ceiling's white."  
  
"Don' like it," his friend slurred, eying him beseechingly.  
  
Freeman was not proof against that look. He sighed. "What would you prefer, Ed? I could hang a poster of the Sistine Chapel there for you. Or playmate of the month."  
  
He waited eagerly for Straker's reply. It was so much fun to rib him about that kind of thing. Straker was such a prude. But the commander merely frowned and said, "No."  
  
"Okay, then. How about a tastefully clad lady in a bikini?"  
  
Ed looked at him seriously. "No bikini. Swimsuit. Desiree."  
  
Freeman's brows lifted. "Who?" he asked, mentally sorting through the list of people currently working at the studio and coming up blank.  
  
"Desiree." Straker sighed, closing his eyes against the white so that he could see her better.  
  
Alec watched that hard face soften and started getting worried. He knew very well that Ed hadn't seen anyone since his marriage had hit the skids. "Who is she, Ed?"  
  
"Kelpie."  
  
"What?"  
  
Straker frowned at his incredulous tone, trying to think past the morphine. "No. Writer. Space bitch stories."  
  
Alec choked. "Um... Ed? Where did you meet this woman?" He decided it was smarter all around not to ask what his friend had meant by that last comment.  
  
Eyes still closed, Straker smiled softly. "In the fog."  
  
Freeman met Dr. Jackson's frown with a raised brow. A silent question was asked. The doctor shrugged. Not a good answer. "The fog, Ed?"  
  
"Scotland," he murmured as he drifted into unconsciousness.  
  
When the colonel left the hospital room a few minutes later, the doctor followed him out. He glanced at Freeman's furrowed brow and said soothingly, "There is no need to be concerned, Col. Freeman. It is perfectly understandable for the commander's memories to become confused. His body has suffered severe trauma, and I'm sure the pain medication doesn't help him to be able to think clearly either."  
  
"I realize that," Alec replied curtly, rubbing his eyes wearily.  
  
The doctor waited patiently for the colonel to explain his obvious worry, but when Freeman headed off down the corridor toward his own room without saying anything else, he asked, "Then what is bothering you, Colonel?"  
  
Alec paused and looked back. "Ed's never been to Scotland."  
  
* * *  
  
"How's the hero tonight?" Virginia Lake asked when Alec entered the HQ office.  
  
Alec grimaced and headed for the drink dispenser in the corner. "Sleeping like a baby."  
  
Virginia chuckled, closing the report on the commander's desk and coming over to pour Alec a drink. He grunted and accepted it, realizing that his cast made it rather difficult to work the dispenser's buttons. "Thanks," he muttered and downed the bourbon in one swallow.  
  
She raised her elegant eyebrows as he handed the glass back for a refill. She said as she poured, "I wasn't referring to Commander Straker."  
  
He met her eyes as she handed him back the glass and sighed. "I'm no hero, Ginny," he said and sat down on a nearby chair.  
  
Col. Lake leaned a curvaceous hip against the edge of the desk and looked him over. "You took a bullet meant for him, Alec. That's a hero in my book."  
  
"Maybe," he conceded. "But he still managed to get injured. The damn fool! He should have let security chase Carlyle down."  
  
Virginia tilted her head to the side. "Would you have?"  
  
He said nothing as he set the empty glass on the desk.  
  
She grinned. "That's what I thought." She came closer and laid a slender hand on his shoulder. She could feel how tense he was and went around to massage his neck muscles. "Worried about him?"  
  
He sighed. That felt good. "Yeah."  
  
"He'll be all right, you know," she said quietly. "He came through the surgery with flying colors."  
  
"I know, Ginny." He shrugged under her hands. "It's just that he's... not quite himself."  
  
She thought for a minute. "And how much morphine is he on?"  
  
"It's not that," he answered, but did not elaborate. After a few minutes, she felt his muscles loosen up. She smiled and went back behind the desk.  
  
He stood and headed for the door, then turned back. "Ginny?"  
  
She looked up at him, pleased to see him less tense than when he'd entered the office, but concerned about the worried expression in his fine eyes. "What is it?"  
  
He started to speak, then frowned. It wasn't something he could share with anyone else. Ed was such a private man that it would seem like treason to talk about it. "Can you get me a list of any new writers that have been at the studio in the past six months?"  
  
She blinked. She didn't normally handle studio business. Her main work was with the computer systems at SHADO. But with the studio overhead, all of the operatives spent some time on the sets sooner or later. "That will be a pretty long list," she warned him.  
  
"Just the ones named Desiree then."  
  
"Desiree?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She frowned. "Are you sure you want a writer? She sounds more like an actress with that name."  
  
He nodded. "You could be right. Check them too."  
  
Virginia bit back a sigh. He had no idea what he was asking. The studio may have begun small several years ago when it was first established as a cover for the organization, but it had quickly grown under the leadership of their workaholic commander into one of the only successful film studios in Britain. And the staff at the studio had increased as a direct result. "Do you have a last name?" she asked him. "That might make the search a little easier."  
  
He shook his head broodingly, making her wonder what this woman had done to concern him so much. "I don't know it. I'll have to ask him. Thanks, Ginny."  
  
"Anytime," she murmured as he left the office. She sat frowning as the door slid closed behind him and said to no one in particular, "Ask who?"  
  
CHAPTER 2  
  
He stood and let the wind play with his coat, uncaring as it flapped around his trousered legs. Standing on the high cliff, he felt freer than he had felt in ages. He frowned as he thought about it. Perhaps ever. He felt the sun full on his face and the sea in his nostrils and smiled. He felt alive. And he liked the feeling. He saw movement on the beach below and moved closer to the edge of the cliff to wave. "Hey, there!"  
  
Desiree looked up in surprise. Then she smiled, waving back.  
  
"Shall I come down?" he called to her.  
  
"No. I'll come up." Her long hair was braided today in a thick braid down her back, but tendrils whipped about her face as she came up the rocks. He found himself searching her lovely face closely as she approached, wanting to see what color her laughing eyes were. But she was serious as she reached him, eying him carefully. "I thought you'd gone."  
  
He shook his head, wondering what had caused that sober expression in those brilliant green eyes. "I like it here. This is the best vacation I've had in a while." He thought a moment, then grimaced. "Actually, this is the ifirst/i vacation I've had in a while."  
  
Desiree laughed, her countenance lightening. "Then I'd say you're due," she said, taking his arm and walking with him along the cliff. They stopped eventually, turning to admire the ocean view. It truly was breathtaking from where they stood, the fierce waves crashing against the dark high rocks of the cliff and those just offshore. The salty smell was strong today.  
  
She spoke quietly, "There's something about the sea that calls to me. It touches some part of me deep inside that I'm not even aware of most of the time. Until I come back here to see it again, feel it again. I don't know how to describe it." She gave him a soft smile. "Maybe I am half- kelpie."  
  
He smiled back at her, almost believing it possible as he gazed into those lovely eyes. "Maybe you are," he agreed, glad that no one he knew could hear him say such a thing.  
  
She sighed and returned her gaze to the ocean. "Don't you think it's absolutely beautiful?" she whispered.  
  
His eyes were on her profile. "Yes."  
  
Desiree turned and blushed as she met his eyes. "Ed! I was talking about the view."  
  
"So was I." He brushed a hand down her cheek, smoothing wayward tendrils away from her face. Her skin was so soft under his fingers that it made his throat close up.  
  
Her heart skipped a beat as she stared into his beautiful blue eyes, but after a moment, she blinked and turned to walk beside him again. "Are you a magician, Ed?"  
  
Straker lifted a brow. "No. Why would you ask that?"  
  
She shrugged, unsure of herself where he was concerned. She glimpsed things about him that baffled her, because he seemed very much the opposite of the kind of man he said he was. That he appeared to be. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "You're very good at the whole light and mirrors thing, you know."  
  
"Light and mirrors?"  
  
She waved a hand in the air. "You know. Hocus pocus. Things aren't what they seem."  
  
He frowned a moment, not certain that he was following her. "Well, the film industry is a little bit like that, I suppose. Light and mirrors actually isn't a bad description."  
  
"And your disappearing act?" she asked sharply.  
  
He frowned. "What disappearing act?"  
  
She compressed her lips to hold back an unwise retort. Instead she said, "Ed, where are you staying?"  
  
For a moment, he couldn't remember. "At an inn."  
  
"In the village?"  
  
"No. Nearby." He stopped her with a hand on her arm and turned her to face him. "What is it, Desiree? What's wrong?"  
  
She shook her head. "Is your name really Ed Straker?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And do you really run a film studio?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She sighed and started walking again. Beyond the house they came onto a field of heather that spread out for quite a distance. The sight of the breeze-tossed flowers was almost as heady as the fragrance they sent his way. He had never seen anything like it. "You're right, Desiree," he said quietly. "It is beautiful here."  
  
She met his eyes, but dropped her own after a moment and sat on the grass. He sat next to her, disturbed by the shadows he glimpsed in her eyes. But she didn't look at him again, only watched the heather sway in silence. When he laid a tentative hand on her arm, she finally looked at him, meeting those compelling eyes. "Ed," she sighed.  
  
He leaned forward and kissed her. It had been an impulse, something he rarely allowed himself to indulge in. But the moment seemed to call for it, and he surrendered to the beauty all around him. He thought fleetingly that her lips were warm and amazingly soft. Then he couldn't think at all. Lightning seared a path through the very core of him, and he released her with a gasp, almost shaking. Was she some fey creature after all, bent on bewitching him? But she looked as dazed as he felt. "What was that?" he whispered.  
  
She slowly opened her deep green eyes and licked trembling lips. "Lightning. Thunder."  
  
"Yes," he murmured, unable to keep from kissing her again. When he drew back this time, they stared at each other for a long while in silence. Then she turned away. He said, "Desiree?"  
  
She didn't meet his eyes, but looked out over the heather around them when she said, "No one around here has heard of you, Ed. Or of any studio you might run."  
  
He blinked in surprise. "That's ridiculous. God, Desiree! Do you think I don't know who I am? My studio is in Wessex. It's called Harlington- Straker. Look me up in Who's Who if you don't believe me. I'm in there. I think they even have a picture. And the studio is mentioned as well." He reached into his jacket's inside breast pocket for his card case and cursed silently at coming up empty. She met his eyes, hers full of concern. He said, "Why would I lie to you? What would it possibly serve?"  
  
"I don't know." She touched his face, unable to remain skeptical when he looked at her so beseechingly. "It doesn't matter, Ed. I won't let it matter. You're real. Everything else will sort itself out."  
  
Before he could respond, they heard the sound of barking and a female voice calling, "Desiree!"  
  
She stood up. "It's my sister. Would you like to meet her?"  
  
He was still bothered by all that had passed between them and knew that he for one needed time to think it through. So he said, "Maybe tomorrow."  
  
"All right." She turned back after a few steps and asked, "Will I see you tomorrow then?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
She smiled at his confident reply and batted her eyelashes at him. "Will you come calling at my door?"  
  
He grinned. "Would your sister approve of me?"  
  
Desiree twinkled, thinking of the comments her sister had already made about the man in the fog. "Probably. But I can't guarantee my brother-in- law."  
  
"I see." Straker came forward and flicked a finger under her chin. "I guess I'll just have to take my chances then."  
  
She laughed and blushed before hurrying toward the house. She was met halfway by Maddy, her sister's large dog, who was barking fiercely. "Hey, girl," she soothed, running a hand down the dog's flank. "It's just me, silly." Maddy sighed and accepted that, accompanying her up the slope to the house.  
  
"Your editor's on the telephone," Fiona said as Desiree came up to the door. "Something about a book signing."  
  
"Thanks." Desiree sashayed over to the telephone as if at a dance, and Fiona raised her eyebrows at her.  
  
"What have you been up to now?"  
  
"I was talking to Ed," Desiree said as she lifted the receiver.  
  
"The producer fellow?"  
  
Desiree's editor was excitedly telling her friend all about the book signing deal she'd managed to get for her in London, but Desiree was only half-listening. "Yes," she answered her sister.  
  
"Where?" Fiona persisted.  
  
"In the meadow. He might still be there if you want to sneak a peek at him." Her editor was giving her directions, and she turned away to write them down. After she hung up the telephone, she saw her sister standing in the doorway still. "Did you see him?"  
  
Fiona shook her head. "Missed him. Anyway, I'm half-believing you made him up, Des. Surely no man is as pretty as you say he is."  
  
Desiree hugged herself, sighing as she remembered the feel of his arms around her. "He is," she said simply.  
  
Her sister snorted.  
  
* * *  
  
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the white ceiling. He closed them again immediately, deciding that he preferred darkness to that empty expanse of white. It seemed to mock him, reminding him of the stark emptiness of his life. When he finally opened his eyes and turned to the side, he saw Alec asleep on the chair. He smiled slightly. His life wasn't quite empty. "Alec," he whispered.  
  
Freeman jerked awake. "Ed?" He blinked owlishly at his friend. "You okay?"  
  
Straker took a moment to check. "Yes. I fine, Alec. I can barely feel anything."  
  
"Good." Alec shifted closer to the bed. "Here. I brought you something to read."  
  
His friend frowned. It was a magazine. "I'd rather read a book."  
  
"Since when?" Alec tapped the glossy cover. "It's a science magazine. All the latest theories. You'll love it."  
  
Straker leafed through the pages disinterestedly. "Did you find any of Desiree's books for me?"  
  
"Hell, Ed!" Alec ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I couldn't even find her! What's her full name?"  
  
"Didn't I tell you? It's Desiree Leigh. She writes science fiction."  
  
Alec grinned. "Oh. So that's what you meant."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Space bitch stories."  
  
The commander's eyes met his. "You've heard of her then?"  
  
Alec sighed. "No. You said it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"They're not the kind of books guys generally read, Ed."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No. Lots of scantily dressed women throwing their weight around, using men as sex toys."  
  
Straker's brow lifted. "You're kidding."  
  
"Not at all." Alec's good hand went to his chin. "Come to think of it, maybe I should read those books."  
  
His friend chuckled. "Get one for me, won't you?"  
  
"I'll see what I can do. Say, Ed. Why do you want to read this woman's books?"  
  
Straker smiled softly. "To understand her better. To see the way she thinks." Suddenly he frowned, remembering his last conversation with her. "Alec, where are my cards?"  
  
"Cards?"  
  
"Yes. My business cards."  
  
"In the bedside table."  
  
Straker tried to reach over to the table and quickly laid still again as pain shot up his leg. "Will you get them for me?"  
  
"Sure." Alec handed him the case and watched as he checked inside to be sure that it contained cards. Then he put the case in his pajama pocket. Alec's brows raised, but he wasn't sure whether he should ask the question on his lips. So he asked another one. "Ed, how long have you known this Desiree Leigh?"  
  
"Not long."  
  
"Where did you meet?"  
  
"In the fog."  
  
Alec gasped. "In Scotland?"  
  
Straker frowned at his tone. "Yes."  
  
Freeman leaned forward. "Ed, you've never been to Scotland."  
  
The commander met his eyes, thinking hard. "Yes, I have."  
  
"When?"  
  
His brow furrowed. "Recently."  
  
Alec gave him a worried look. "In the past few days?"  
  
Straker started to answer, then stopped, frowning deeply.  
  
Alec sighed. "Ed, you dreamed her."  
  
"No."  
  
His tone brooked no argument. "For God's sake, Ed!" Alec said.  
  
"I didn't, Alec! I couldn't. You don't understand. You haven't met her. She's so alive, so vibrant! Her laugh! And her eyes!"  
  
The colonel was intrigued in spite of himself. "What about her eyes?"  
  
"They're green. So green. Like... like... I don't know. I don't know how to describe them. Beautiful. That's what they are. Beautiful."  
  
Alec gazed sadly at his friend. "Ed..."  
  
"I didn't imagine her, Alec!" he said, getting agitated. "I couldn't have. I don't have that much imagination."  
  
Col. Freeman covered Straker's restless hand with his good one. "All right, Ed."  
  
But when he left the hospital room later, he met Dr. Jackson in the hall. He knew the doctor was monitoring the commander's condition closely and had no doubt that he was listening in on everything that went on in that room. So he asked bluntly, "What's going on, Jackson?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Colonel," the doctor replied cautiously. "It is certainly unusual."  
  
"That's a big help," Freeman said sarcastically.  
  
Jackson ignored the comment. "But not undocumented," he continued.  
  
That got the colonel's attention. "What do you mean?"  
  
The doctor made a Slavic gesture with his hands. "You must realize, Col. Freeman, that the commander suffered a massive electrical shock."  
  
"Yes." Alec frowned. "I know you couldn't operate on him until his heart rate returned to normal."  
  
"True. And his brain waves still haven't. We're electrical creatures, Colonel. Contact with the electric fence stimulated the nerve endings in his brain. Research shows that in such cases, patients often experience extremely vivid dreams."  
  
"For how long?"  
  
Jackson shrugged. "Who knows? Not very long, I believe. His brain patterns are already slowing their rhythms. Eventually, they will be completely normal again."  
  
"But will he?"  
  
The doctor shrugged, not wishing to comment.  
  
* * *  
  
As he walked along the cliff, he saw her up ahead. She was standing looking out over the ocean, and he wondered what she was thinking. Suddenly, she turned and saw him. He gasped. She was crying. "Desiree!"  
  
She ran to him, coming into his arms in a rush. "Ed!" she sobbed.  
  
His arms closed around her, holding her tightly. "What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Where have you been?"  
  
He frowned. "You said to come by today to meet your sister. Don't you remember?" She swallowed, shaking her head. "Ed, that was last week!"  
  
"What?" He searched her face, hardly believing her. "That's not possible! Desiree, I spoke with you yesterday."  
  
She shook her head, saying nothing.  
  
He saw that she meant it and said, "I don't understand." He ran a thumb across her wet cheek. "I made you cry. Oh, Desiree!"  
  
When she saw his concern, her own doubts dissolved. "I love you, Ed Straker," she whispered fervently.  
  
His breath caught, and he crushed her suddenly to him, kissing her with all the passion and confusion that he felt. She returned his kiss just as powerfully, toppling his shaky control as she moaned and pressed closer. As they sank to the ground together, some vestige of sanity surfaced, and he removed his coat for her to lay on. She smiled softly and drew him into her embrace.  
  
* * *  
  
It was a long time before he got his breath back. He breathed the smell of the sea in her hair and never wanted to move. Then he remembered that the cliffs were mostly rock and rolled to the side, keeping her close as he covered her with the edge of his coat from under them. She murmured softly and snuggled closer. He watched the blue, blue sky overhead and decided never to leave Scotland. "Desiree."  
  
She opened her eyes and looked at him.  
  
He sighed deeply, overwhelmed by the expression in her lovely green eyes. What was it about her that brought things out of him he didn't know were there? He had never been impulsive. It was just too dangerous in his line of work to do anything without a lot of clear thought beforehand. But she made him impulsive. Delirious. Reckless. And he was enjoying it very much. He'd be worried about it if he didn't feel so good. But something else was bothering him. "Has it truly been a week?"  
  
She nodded. "It's all right, Ed."  
  
"No," he replied firmly. "It's not. Something isn't right. Tell me this, Desiree. Did you look me up in Who's Who?"  
  
"Yes." She lowered her eyes.  
  
"And?" he persisted.  
  
She swallowed. "You weren't there. But I don't care, Ed! None of it matters! Only you and I matter."  
  
He wondered how long she would let herself believe that. Then he remembered his card case. He could answer at least one of her questions for her. He rummaged around and found his jacket, checking his pocket. But it was empty. The cards weren't there. He turned back to her with a frown and saw her inquiring expression. In frustration, he kissed her, feeling her desperation mingle with his own. When he drew back, he said, "We have to find out what's going on. I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want any misunderstandings to come between us. Desiree, I love you. And I refuse to lose you because of this mix-up."  
  
Her beautiful eyes teared up. "You won't lose me," she promised quietly. "Ed? What about when your vacation ends?"  
  
He almost spoke, but caught himself in time and turned to stare out to sea, saying nothing. He looked grim.  
  
She laid a small hand on his arm. "Ed?"  
  
He gave a shudder and finally met her eyes. "I'm not..." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm not very good husband material."  
  
She blinked at his certainty. "Aren't you?"  
  
He shook his head. "No," he said despairingly.  
  
Desiree gazed at his profile in silence for a moment, then said, "Says who?"  
  
He looked at her, his face bleak. "My exwife."  
  
"Oh." She thought about that. "What was your crime?"  
  
He sighed. "I work long hours. I get called in unexpectedly. I miss important family functions."  
  
She giggled, and he met her eyes in surprise. "Promise?" she said.  
  
He only stared at her in bewilderment.  
  
She gave a deep sigh. "You know, Ed. I've always assumed that I would never marry. I'm a writer." Her lips quirked as she glanced at him to see if he understood. He raised a brow in inquiry. "Well, sometimes--- okay, most of the time--- I'm not even sure what day it is. I forget appointments. I forget to eat. I lose all track of time. I wake up in the middle of the night with a story idea and end up falling asleep over my typewriter. I always figured I'd drive a 9-5 man to drink."  
  
She looked so apologetic that he leaned over and kissed her. "Will you marry me?"  
  
Desiree grinned. She knew that she was dreaming all this. He was far too wonderful a man for any of what she was experiencing to be real. But she wasn't an idiot. Dream or not, if he wanted to marry her, there was only one answer. "Yes."  
  
His lean hand caressed her cheek, and he gave her a soft kiss that melted her completely. Then he suddenly sat up. "I need to get you a ring."  
  
Her grin widened. "Do you now?"  
  
"Yes." He stood up, hurriedly putting on his clothes while she watched him with a twinkle in her eyes.  
  
"Ed."  
  
He frowned. Where was his other shoe?  
  
"Ed?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Where were you planning on getting this ring?" she asked.  
  
He turned to her and saw the laughter in her eyes. Frowning, he looked around and realized for the first time that the sun was low on the horizon. "How late do the shops stay open?"  
  
"Not this late."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She handed him his other shoe with a smile. "There's always tomorrow."  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
White. He turned away from his view of the ceiling, his eyes filling with tears as he realized where he was. Desiree, his heart cried. Desiree!  
  
"Ed?" Alec turned from the window and came over to the hospital bed when he saw his friend move on the pillow.  
  
Oh, God. Straker couldn't face Alec right now. "What is it?" he managed to say.  
  
"Are you in pain?" There was something in his friend's voice that didn't sound right, and Alec frowned.  
  
No, Alec. My heart is shredded into ribbons and bleeding all over the sheets. But I'm fine. Just fine. "I'm fine."  
  
His friend sighed. He certainly didn't sound fine. "Did you dream again, Ed?" Alec blanched at the sight of Straker's tormented face as he turned on the pillow and faced him.  
  
"She's not a dream!"  
  
"Ed!" he whispered in shock.  
  
The commander laid an arm over his eyes. He hurt almost too much to speak. "She's real, Alec. I know it. I've touched her." He swallowed a sob. "Run my fingers through her hair."  
  
Col. Freeman was at a loss. Obviously this dream woman had managed to affect his friend in a big way. He had often wondered what would happen if Straker ever fell in love. The pressures of his job had cost him his marriage, and he'd shied away from any entanglements since then. Alec knew that he had never quite recovered from the blow. But this...? How were they supposed to deal with something like this? "Ed, listen to me," he said. "Do you remember what happened to you?"  
  
Straker lowered his arm and frowned at his friend. Alec met his eyes, willing him to remember. The commander looked around the hospital room for a moment, then said slowly, "Carlyle shot me."  
  
Freeman sighed softly. "That's right. Do you remember what happened then?"  
  
He thought. "I fell."  
  
"Do you remember where you fell, Ed?"  
  
"I... in the bushes?"  
  
"Think, Ed. The electric fence. Do you remember the electric fence?"  
  
"No." Straker's brow furrowed as he tried to think. "Wait! Yes. I remember." Pain. Excruciating pain. White searing pain that tore through him like a thousand sharp knives. Then, darkness. Blissful, quiet darkness. He looked at his friend in bewilderment.  
  
Alec leaned closer. "Ed, you fell into the electric fence. Thank God you fell back into it, instead of forward."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because the jolt would have made your hands clench around the wires. You'd have hung on until it killed you. As it was, your back took the brunt of the shock, and when you fell forward, you broke contact." "I see." He frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"  
  
Alec sighed. "Because it fried your brain circuits, Ed. That's why your dreams are so vivid. It happens that way with electrical shock."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Ed, there is no Desiree Leigh. I checked. There are no books written by her. She doesn't exist, except in your mind."  
  
"Alec!" Tears were streaming down his face, but he was too upset to care that his friend saw them. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"  
  
Freeman looked grim. "When was the last time you asked about SHADO, Ed? When was the last time you thought of anything but this woman? It's not healthy. You've got to snap out of it. Don't you see? SHADO needs you. Earth needs you. We need our commander back."  
  
Straker turned away and stared at the white ceiling, hearing the truth in his friend's words. Emptiness stared back at him. White. The absence of all color. All life. All joy. Only duty. He sighed. It was all he knew. All he had ever known. His tears continued to leak from the corners of his eyes, soaking the pillow. He was unaware of them. He was beyond even feeling them on his face. "I'd like to be alone for a while, Alec," he said quietly.  
  
"Sure, Ed." Col. Freeman got up from the chair beside the bed and went to the door. When he looked back at his friend, he wanted suddenly to cry. He'd done the right thing. The only thing he could have done in the circumstances. But he felt like a murderer. A traitor to his best friend. He felt no better than Carlyle.  
  
* * *  
  
In the corridor, he met up with Dr. Jackson. "You handled that situation very well, Colonel," the doctor told him.  
  
Alec gave him a glance of dislike. He remembered suddenly that he hated Jackson. "How much longer?" he asked harshly.  
  
"It is difficult to say," the doctor answered mildly. "His brain waves are returning to normal. Tomorrow? In a few days?" He shrugged.  
  
"And then?" Freeman demanded.  
  
"And then what, Colonel?" Jackson asked in exasperation. "Are you asking if he will then be fine? Normal once more? I don't know. There is no way to be sure." At Alec's snort of disgust, he added, "He is lucky to even be alive. There are no more guarantees than that."  
  
The colonel forcibly restrained himself from swinging at the doctor for that condescending, completely useless answer. His fists clenched, but he made himself turn and go down the hall instead. He considered it a major triumph when he reached his car without once turning back to beat the living shit out of him.  
  
* * *  
  
His heart beat painfully hard when he saw her on the cliff. She looked so beautiful. And so forlorn. "Desiree..." His voice sounded muted for some reason, and he doubted if she even heard him. Especially since the dog with her suddenly began barking.  
  
She turned to shush Maddy and saw him. Her face went white with shock. "Ed!"  
  
"Desiree, what's wrong?" He made to go to her, but it was as if he moved in slow motion. What was happening?  
  
She ran to him, ignoring the dog's barking, which rose loud and echoed off the rocky cliff face. Desiree stared at him in tears, reaching up a trembling hand to touch his face.  
  
He brought his own hand up to touch her, to wipe her tears away, but stopped short when he saw his arm. He stared in horror. It was transparent! He met her eyes and realized suddenly how he must look to her. "Desiree! No!" He pulled her desperately into his arms. "You're not a dream! You're not!"  
  
She held him tightly, refusing to accept that she could see her own hands through his back. He felt solid to her. He felt so real! "Oh, Ed!" she cried brokenly. "I'm not the dream. You are!"  
  
"I won't lose you. I can't lose you!" he said, raining frantic kisses over her face. She lifted her face to him, and he kissed her. Deeply. Desperately. With everything inside him that cried out for her, needed her, loved her. She kissed him back just as fiercely and could feel him sliding from her grasp. She hung on, her eyes tightly closed, until the only pressure against her lips was the chill wind off the ocean. She opened her eyes slowly to find herself alone on the cliff.  
  
"Ed," she moaned and collapsed onto the rocks. She sat in stunned silence until she felt Maddy's muzzle against her shoulder. She turned and hugged the dog, sobbing for all that she had lost. All she had never really had. After a long while, Desiree loosened her grip on the dog. "Maddy," she said, patting her flank with hands that still shook. "No one will believe me, girl. But you will, won't you? You saw him, too."  
  
Maddy whined softly and licked Desiree's wet cheek.  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
Alec drove through the London traffic, enjoying the feel of using both arms again. It felt good to be mobile once more. He glanced surreptitiously at the quiet man beside him in the sleek car. He was used to silence in Ed's company. After so many years of friendship, he could almost hear the gears turning in that brilliant mind as the commander thought things through and managed to outwit the aliens one more time.  
  
The colonel frowned. His commander wasn't thinking hard tonight. He was brooding. Something he had rarely done before the accident. But something that Alec had caught him doing often these past months. And he knew what it meant. He wasn't so foolish as to think Ed had forgotten that girl. "That was a good speech you gave to the Academy tonight, Ed," he said in an effort to redirect his friend's thoughts.  
  
"Hmmm?" Straker stirred and looked over at him. "Thanks, Alec. It was an honor to be given the award."  
  
"Well, the way the crowd applauded, they were wise to do so. If you hadn't won, there might have been a riot."  
  
His friend shook his head, then said, "Why doesn't the finance committee ever applaud when I speak to them, Alec?"  
  
Freeman chuckled. "They have no taste, that's why. I don't know, Ed. Maybe if you showed up in that tuxedo at the committee meetings?"  
  
Straker glanced down at his elegant tuxedo, and a small smile lit his serious face for a moment. "Maybe I should try it."  
  
Alec grinned, but was soon frowning again as Straker returned to his thoughts. The commander had healed as quickly as he usually did; quick enough to drive his physical therapists crazy trying to keep up with him. He had even passed the psych evaluation without a ripple. Dr. Jackson had pronounced him able to return to work. But he'd been frowning when he said it. Alec hoped it kept the doctor awake nights worrying about it. They both knew Ed was far from fine.  
  
He'd tried everything he knew to get through to his friend. Nothing had worked. Ed had shut everyone out, brooding alone with the memory of a dream. Alec's lips tightened as he realized that there was something he hadn't tried. Maybe if Ed talked about the girl... "What was she like, Ed?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"The writer. Desiree. What was she like?"  
  
Straker looked at him, seeing not only the concern in his eyes, but the curiosity as well. "Beautiful. Vibrant. Quiet. Full of life. Peaceful. Intense."  
  
Alec chuckled. "Ed, you're contradicting yourself."  
  
His friend was startled for a moment, then smiled softly. "She was like Scotland itself, I guess. Full of contrasts. The cliffs; the meadows. The sea; the heather."  
  
Freeman's brows raised. "Now you're a poet." Straker shrugged and returned his gaze to the passing buildings. And Alec knew he'd been too harsh. "Listen, Ed. What did she look like?"  
  
"Ah! You want details."  
  
"Yeah. Was she fair? Dark? Blonde? Brunette?"  
  
"No. Yes." Straker frowned. "She was fair-skinned. Like fine porcelain."  
  
Alec grunted. He was no aesthete. "Blonde?"  
  
His friend almost smiled. Alec had a strong predilection for blondes. The curvier, the better. "No. Her hair was black. And long. It fell halfway down her back."  
  
Alec's brows raised in appreciation. Trust Ed to dream up a stunner. "And her eyes were green?"  
  
"Yes. Greener than... greener..." He trailed off with a frown and returned to his brooding.  
  
The colonel sighed. "You know, Ed. She sounds like an actress. Especially with that name."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm surprised you didn't make her an actress instead of a writer."  
  
"I didn't make her anything, Alec! She was real. As real as you or me."  
  
Alec shook his head. He'd known Ed hadn't gotten over her, but he'd hoped that he had at least realized that she wasn't anything more than the product of overstimulated brain waves. "How is that possible?"  
  
Straker was silent for a long moment, and Alec almost thought he might finally be accepting the truth when he suddenly said, "I've been reading up on dream research lately."  
  
Freeman bit back a groan. When is a cigar not a cigar? "Have you?"  
  
"Yes. There is a recent theory in scientific circles that there are alternate realities all around us, some that even inhabit the same space we do."  
  
"That sounds freaky."  
  
"Yes. But it's exciting as well." Straker turned in the seat to elaborate, and Alec saw his eyes lit with that inner fire that had motivated the man all his life. The fire that had been absent for the past few months.  
  
"Go on," he encouraged cautiously. He didn't know where his friend was going with this idea, but he was willing to listen to anything that put that expression back in those blue eyes. "How did they find out about them?"  
  
"Through studying atoms, at first. But on our level, it's been through dream research. Remember how you told me that victims of electrical shock have vivid dreams?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, it's true. I checked. Their senses are heightened by the charge. They feel, hear, see, taste, touch--- as though they're actually there. Even though they're not. Some of the reports are amazing."  
  
Alec was frowning. "But what does it mean?"  
  
"Don't you see? Somehow, when the brain is overstimulated through an electrical charge, the mind can slip over into one of these alternate realities for a time."  
  
"So, you're saying that's what happened to you? You were in an alternate world?"  
  
"I believe so."  
  
"Then this Desiree Leigh is a real person. I mean, in the alternate whatever."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But, Ed." Alec's frown deepened. "Then you were the one who wasn't real. I mean..."  
  
"I know," his friend said quietly. "It explains so much, though. Why she'd never heard of me. Why the studio didn't exist. Why time seemed to move differently there. Don't you see?"  
  
Freeman met those intense blue eyes and bit back a sigh. The trouble was, he did see. And the problem was more serious than either he or Jackson dreamed. "Ed..." He had to get through. Somehow, damn it, he had to reach his friend. Reason with him. Make him see how insane this all sounded. "If she's in some alternate world, how could you ever hope to see her again?"  
  
"I don't know." Straker blinked the excess moisture from his eyes, refusing the despair. Then he felt his heart stop in sheer surprise. "Alec! Stop the car!"  
  
"What?" Col. Freeman slammed on the brakes, belatedly looking in the rearview mirror for traffic. Thank God, there was none.  
  
"Back up!"  
  
"Ed!" Alec cursed silently, but obediently slid the car into reverse and parked at the side of the street. His friend was staring intently at the window of a bookstore, and Alec craned his neck to read the sign that hung there. Denise Lester, it read in large looping letters. First lady of Science Fiction. Autographing books tonight. In person. Straker opened the car door, and Alec laid a hand on his arm. "Ed, what are you doing?"  
  
The eyes that turned to him besought his understanding. "Alec, I 'll never see her again. I'm not a part of her world. But..." He looked back at the sign in the bookstore window. "Maybe... maybe there's a Desiree in my world." And he got out of the car and closed the door.  
  
"Ed, for God's sake!" Alec watched helplessly as his friend opened the door of the bookstore and went inside. He muttered a string of curses as he shut off the car and went after him.  
  
* * *  
  
"Look! It's that producer! Straker. You know, Louise. The one who was in the paper. Ooh, isn't he dreamy?"  
  
Straker ignored the whispers around him out of long habit as he headed toward the large display shelf near the counter. Rows of hardback books lined the shelf, their covers turned outward for display. A curvaceous redhead stared boldly out at him from each cover, clad in some skintight jumpsuit. Stars and planets swirled around her, changing shape and size on each new cover. But the woman remained the same, her short cropped hair disheveled, and her green eyes full of mockery. And fun.  
  
He picked up the first book and turned it over to read the back. The heading jumped out at him: Andromeda Starlight, space smuggler extraordinaire... His heart was pounding loudly in his ears as he read the rest of the blurb, unaware of the people around him.  
  
Alec watched him from just inside the doorway. One elegantly clad man stood out starkly in a store full of chattering women. Ed was oblivious to it. Freeman grinned. Hell, Ed was always oblivious! It was part of his charm that he never once believed his own press releases. Alec watched in unholy glee as the women in the store gradually became aware of just who was in their midst. Even elderly ladies were straightening their scarves and patting their hair. He caught snippets of conversation through the general buzz.  
  
"...just get out of hospital last month?"  
  
"Yes, and Doris told me it was some accident on the set of that new movie..."  
  
"Single, you say? Now what's a plummy one like him doing all by hisself, do you think? Is he queer?"  
  
"...think he'd like a nightcap at my place?"  
  
"You can always ask him, Carol." Straker was still reading bookjackets when he heard that laugh. His head came up, and he instinctively headed toward the line of women near a table off to the side.  
  
"Sir! Excuse me, sir!"  
  
He turned and realized that the clerk behind the counter was addressing him. He raised a brow. "Yes?"  
  
She swallowed nervously. "Um... you have to pay for the book here, then you get in line for the autograph."  
  
He frowned down at the book in his hands for a moment, then said, "Of course."  
  
The clerk sighed as he came forward and paid. "The line forms over there," she said helpfully, pointing.  
  
"Thank you," he replied politely and got in line.  
  
"My Gawd, Clarisse! Is that...?"  
  
"Shush! He'll hear you, Janice!" the clerk admonished her fellow worker behind the counter.  
  
"Yes, but isn't that the head of that film place in Harlington?"  
  
"Uh-huh, and isn't he easy on the eyes?" sighed Clarisse, looking her fill.  
  
He tried to see past the heads of the people in front of him in line, hoping to get a glimpse of the author. Every once in a while, that husky laugh could be heard, and his fingers tightened on the book. Eventually, he could hear the low murmur of her voice as she spoke to those ahead of him in line. His throat closed up, and he hoped like hell that he wouldn't disgrace himself when his turn came.  
  
Finally, he could just see her around the woman in front of him. His breath caught at the sight of that dark head bent over as she signed the woman's book. Desiree...  
  
As the woman walked away, she reached out a hand automatically for the next book. And looked up in surprise when it wasn't handed to her. Green eyes met blue, and the universe rocked for a moment before settling back into place. Denise smiled. She knew him. Of him. She'd seen him on the telly. Watched him receive awards for his films. My God, she thought. He's beautiful! "Did you want your book signed?" she asked.  
  
He dragged his eyes away from her face and looked at the book in his hands. He had to force his fingers to release it.  
  
She took it and opened to the flyleaf. "Who shall I make it to?"  
  
"Straker," he said automatically, then corrected himself. "Ed."  
  
"Ed," she murmured, writing swiftly on the page. Her long braid snuck over her shoulder, and she flung it back with an absent gesture. "There you are," she said with a smile as she handed the book back to him.  
  
"Thank you," he said, while another book was placed in front of her from the next woman in line. He glanced down at the flyleaf and read To Ed, Live life to the fullest! Denise Lester. He stood there, trying to absorb the flood of emotions that were cascading through him. The only one he could identify was joy. A sweet, piercing joy. He turned back to the table, fumbling in his breast pocket. Yes, oh yes, it was there! He extracted a card from his case with fingers that shook and said, "Miss Lester?"  
  
"Yes?" She looked up from signing her name and frowned at him, seeing something in his blue eyes that unnerved her. Even while it thrilled her.  
  
He handed her his card. "Would you like to see your books made into movies?"  
  
She nodded, mesmerized by those eyes.  
  
"Call me," he said.  
  
Denise held the card long after he had left the bookstore, unaware of the line of people awaiting her autograph. She looked down at the card and read Ed Straker in bold black letters. Underneath it said Harlington- Straker Film Studios. In tiny print at the bottom, it said Wessex and gave a telephone number. "I will," she murmured, and her heart leapt at the thought. It sounded like a promise.  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
Desiree lifted little Michael Dougal from his crib, silencing his cries with kisses. She changed his diaper, putting on a new sleeper as she cooed to him. His tiny hands made grabs for her hair and caught hold often enough to have her wincing. "Och, you're after the women already, m'boy!" she scolded in the thick brogue of her father. She blew a raspberry on his plump cheek and took him downstairs.  
  
"I thought I heard him," Fiona remarked as they came into the room. She took the baby from her sister and sat back to nurse. "You're a greedy one, you are!" she said as he lunged for her, rooting frantically.  
  
Desiree laughed. "He's got his father's instincts."  
  
"I heard that," came a voice by the fire, and Morris McClellan looked up from his paper to frown at them.  
  
"Relax, m'darling," his wife said with a wink at Desiree. "It was a compliment."  
  
Desiree sat on the couch and watched her sister nurse her young son. Fiona saw a shadow cross her face briefly; then it was gone. She knew her sister well enough to know where her mind had been at that moment. And she had a burning hatred stored up for the man who had wooed her sister, then left without a word. Desiree had gone from speaking of him every waking moment to complete silence. It worried Fiona.  
  
"Did you read the story?" Desiree asked her, picking up the manuscript from the cushion between them.  
  
"Of course," Fiona replied. "Can't you tell?" She gestured to her red eyes and the small pile of used tissues at her feet. "It was wonderful!"  
  
Her sister smiled softly. "I'm glad you liked it."  
  
"It's not like your usual work."  
  
"No."  
  
"Will you be doing more ghost stories?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I hadn't realized that all your researching these past weeks was for a story. You don't usually do research for your stories."  
  
"Well," Desiree said with a wry look. "Science fiction doesn't call for a lot of history."  
  
Fiona chuckled. "I guess not." They were silent a while, then she asked, "Des? Why did you end it so sad?"  
  
Her sister shrugged, her eyes on the rain-drenched cliffs outside the window. "Life's like that sometimes."  
  
Which wasn't an answer. "Why didn't you just make it a happy ending?"  
  
Desiree smiled sadly. "I wish I could."  
  
Fiona frowned. If you wanted a story happy, she didn't see why you couldn't just make it so. Her sister started tickling her nephew's feet as he nursed, and Fiona said, "I've been so glad of your help these past months. I hate the thought of you going back to the city."  
  
"I know. But the book signing is next week, and I need to get settled back in my flat."  
  
"You'll be missed."  
  
"Aye," echoed a deep voice from behind the newspaper, and the sisters shared a grin.  
  
"I'll be back at the holiday," Desiree promised. Maybe by then she could walk on the cliffs without crying. Maybe by then it wouldn't seem so strange to have loved a ghost. She had searched diligently through the records of the coast, certain that he must be listed somewhere among those who had perished on the rocks or been lost at sea nearby. But she had not found him. Oh, she'd found an interesting sea captain who had fit nicely into her story. But Ed had not been there. She wondered for the thousandth time what had drawn him to her cliffs. To her arms. She got up and went to the window. "Storm's picking up."  
  
Suddenly, the house shook as a low boom sounded on the rocks below. "Morris!" Fiona cried, clutching the baby to her.  
  
But he was already out of his chair. For a big man, he could move quickly when needed, and he was pulling on his boots by the time Desiree got her coat and grabbed the torch. "It's a boat, most like," he said as he got the rope from its hook by the door. "On the rocks. Fiona? We'll be needing warm blankets, I think."  
  
"Aye, Morris," she said as she held the door for them to go out into the storm. "Careful now."  
  
Desiree met her sister's worried gaze with a reassuring smile. Then she followed Morris to the cliff and the rocks below.  
  
* * *  
  
The impact had exploded the badly listing craft, and the cryotube burst open as it hit the water. The commander swallowed a quantity of the icy water before he was conscious enough to hold his breath. His limbs were numb from being in stasis, but contact with the frigid ocean had them waking with a vengeance. Pins and needles shot throughout his body, and it hurt so badly he wasn't sure he was glad to be alive. Slowly, painfully, he made for shore.  
  
The waves were fierce, wanting to pull him under, and he kept his eyes glued to the light shining occasionally through the rain and the fog. There was a house ahead. Shore was close by. The storm was ferocious, but he thanked God for it, since he was fairly certain that it had been what had finished the UFO off. Sky 1's initial attack had damaged it enough to make it search for cover instead of continuing out of Earth's atmosphere. He'd been aware of that much before he lost consciousness. He'd have to thank the pilot when he got back to HQ. It had been a good shot. But the storm had completed the job. The craft had not been able to maintain altitude in the face of its ferocity and had dashed against the coastal rocks. The commander was grateful.  
  
He saw a few of those rocks looming out of the fog barely in time to keep from hitting them himself. He threw himself aside at the last minute, using valuable energy to fight the current. He was nearly spent when he felt sand beneath him, and he dug in as the surf tried to carry him back into deeper water. He clung, advancing slowly in the dark until he lay on the beach, only his feet still in the water.  
  
He lay with his cheek against the hard sand, taking deep breaths. After a while, he was aware of muffled voices being carried through the fog. He tried to call out, to get their attention, but his throat was raw from the water it had swallowed, and his shout emerged as a croak.  
  
"Morris! I heard something!" Desiree slid swiftly down the rocks, her torch barely piercing the fog and the rain. When the light slid over sodden clothing instead of sand, she gasped. "Here!" she yelled, running forward.  
  
"I'm here, lass," her brother-in-law said from behind her and hoisted the man up over his shoulder. "Shine the torch on the rocks for me, there's a good girl," he said as he started back up the cliff.  
  
She shone the light over the tiny beach one last time, saying, "What if there are others?"  
  
"One at a time, lassie."  
  
She obediently came back and lit the way for him back up the cliff face.  
  
* * *  
  
He'd been drifting slowly in and out of consciousness when he was brought abruptly awake by a brisk toweling. He focused his eyes on a large man who was folding him neatly under blissfully warm blankets. "Thank you," he managed to croak.  
  
The man frowned at him, then nodded brusquely. He picked up the wet towels and opened the door of the room, letting in two women. One brought the man on the couch something hot in a mug, and as fastidious as he normally was about such things, he nonetheless drank it gratefully, uncaring what was in it. It had to be better than sea water. The other woman stayed by the door, but he felt her gaze on him, although she kept herself just out of his line of sight. He frowned, bothered by the rudeness, but the warmth of the toddy was coursing through him and had his eyes soon closing.  
  
He opened them again when the man returned, saying that there were no more survivors, and they'd have to wait until morning to see if there was anything left of the boat. Boat? Oh, yes. Of course. They thought he'd wrecked his boat in the storm. He almost smiled. What fool would take a boat out in this weather? Come to that, what fool would let himself be ambushed by aliens on his way home from work? Idiot! He heard the women talking in low tones and tried to hear what they were saying.  
  
"...and he's bound to have family worried about him. Who is he, do you think?"  
  
Desiree didn't dare answer. "Does he have a wallet in his pants?"  
  
"No. God, Des! He doesn't even have pockets in his pants! What is this fabric anyway? Silk?"  
  
The commander frowned. "Jacket," he said succintly.  
  
"You're awake then," Desiree said and came over to the couch. She searched those blue eyes carefully, but caught no hint of recognition in them. Surprise, yes. Quickly veiled. But not recognition.  
  
He stared at her, trying not to gawk. Did anyone really have eyes that green? So beautiful, so... He couldn't think of the words while his brain felt like mush.  
  
Fiona handed her sister his card case. "This was in his jacket."  
  
Desiree looked at it, smiling softly as she stroked a finger over its gold surface. "Your card case," she said quietly as she met his eyes.  
  
"Yes," he said, not understanding her smile.  
  
She opened it and took out his small stack of business cards. "I'm afraid they're ruined." She sat on the floor and peeled them off one by one until she found one where the ink had not run everywhere. Edwin Sanders it read in bold black lettering. Thatcham-Sanders Film Studio. Below it in small print it read Wessex and had a telephone number. Her eyes blurred as she stared at it. "Ed," she murmured, looking up at him with luminous eyes. "Your name is Ed."  
  
Her husky voice was doing odd things to his nerve endings, and the look in her eyes reminded him forcibly of his nakedness beneath the blankets. "Yes," he finally said and swallowed hard before continuing. "I need to call..."  
  
"This number?" She held up the card.  
  
"Yes."  
  
She dialed it for him, handing him the receiver and sitting back on her heels watching him with those lovely eyes. He tried not to notice.  
  
The telephone was picked up at the other end. "Alan? It's me."  
  
"Ed? God, Ed! Where the hell are you? We've been worried sick! We found your car. What happened?"  
  
"I'm..." He frowned and asked her softly, "Where am I?"  
  
"The Scottish coast."  
  
"I'm at the Scottish coast," he told his friend, then looked back at her in surprise. "Really? Scotland?"  
  
She grinned. "Yes."  
  
"I've always wanted to go there," he murmured. "I mean, here."  
  
"Well, now you are," she replied quietly, and he lost himself for a moment in those incredible eyes.  
  
"What? What, Alan?" he asked, realizing that the colonel was asking him something.  
  
"Ed, pay attention!" his friend admonished. "Shall we come after you? We could be there in an hour or so."  
  
He thought perhaps he was delirious, suffering from hypothermia and the effects of the hot toddy. But he wanted to drown in those eyes. "No, Alan. It's storming here. Don't bother. I'm fine. There's no hurry." And he hung up the telephone. 


End file.
